Miasma Approaches
It was such a lovely night. More beautiful than can be imagined. The
breeze rustled gently through the pine forest and gently caressed the surface
of the grass. While the stars watched with sleepy eyes. The whole scene created
a mood of restfulness and peace.
Scented woods still framed
the elegant whiteness of the large mansion despite the encroachment of other
homes as the area became more urbanized. “Cut the woods further back,” pleaded
the colonel’s wife, who came from a home surrounded by large yards and
extensive gardens. To her, the wildness of the woods possessed an aura of
mysterious magic that was hard to determine and only increased a sense of
obscure dread.
Her husband obeyed her
wishes but only barely. He granted her the ability to enlarge the grounds so
that she could indulge herself in her horticultural desires. As time went by,
the flower gardens of the past began reviving and flourishing together within
the new cleared area. The new improvements
enhanced the zest of a mansion that once again was becoming vibrant. The woods continued to maintain their
stately grandeur. The pines could still raise their verdant heads with regal
pride. The small terrain they had lost made them more elegant since it cleared
away weed patches. It was like a gentleman who goes to the barber and comes out
more refined after a trim.
Nature could be seen to live
with mankind in a convivial state. The state of friendly harmony served to
enhance the spirit that all beings are children of a beneficent Nature that
increases the beauty of its creatures by the very complexity of the living
systems coupled with the artistry of creation.
Yet the dreamy stillness,
that led to the contemplative tranquility of the forest’s exterior, could not
mitigate but only enhance the numbing hatred that was palpitating within its
interior. There was in the core of the
forest a deadly force that was watching and waiting as it bid its time to
strike.
Within the blue-green beauty
of the pine grove by the mansion shone the silver majesty of Miasma, the very
breath of mist that emanates from the Earth’s soul. She looked so majestic dressed imperially in her silvery classic
robe mindful of the Grecian and Roman past.
The breeze playfully wafted about the lightness of her apparel in a
vivid paradox to the heaviness of her fury.
Miasma’s silvery flesh added
brilliance to the night. And again her
angry features clashed with this appearance of excellent beauty.
But as the night’s mists
gathered about her commanding figure, nothing could quite dispel the feeling of
something that was building to a fierce climax embodied in impending doom. It was just a matter of time before Miasma
would deliver her shattering blow.
As she awaited the precise
moment when she would unleash her fury, her mind so fabulously orchestrated
could focus on more than one point of the reality that faced her. As she observed the mansion with her spirit
crouched for the attack, her vast intellect considered the characteristics of
each of the occupants of the vast home.